


In Your Favor

by Agent_24



Series: ShinDrift Week [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bodyguard, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Secret Identity, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: The Dredgens have already lost one of their best. Bane would do anything to make sure that doesn't happen again...even if it means striking a deal with the most infuriating man this side of the cosmos.For ShinDrift Week Day 2: Collar/Leash





	In Your Favor

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have an excuse for this I just deeply enjoy ruining Teben's life

Hope is just as shitty as Bane remembers. Maybe more so.

Still, word on the street is that ‘the Drifter’ has made some powerful allies recently. A  _ lot  _ of powerful allies, not the least of which being Ghaul’s killer, the leader of the Praxic Order, what’s left of the Vanguard, and more importantly, one Shin Malphur. How in the Traveler’s name  _ that  _ came about, Bane doesn’t know, but if  _ Hope _ can make that insatiable Hunter see reason, then…

But Hope is just as shitty as Bane remembers, so it takes Bane a moment to reel in his intense desire to choke the man out when Hope greets him with a sleazy kind of smile. 

They’re meeting at one of Spider’s bars, full of wary Eliksni and stray Lightbearers. Hope is seated already, a still-full glass of whiskey in his hand. Beside Hope is a Hunter, dressed in dark shades of neutral colors like he wants to avoid standing out. But if he was attempting to dress inconspicuously, the effort is wasted, ruined by the imposing figure he cuts while he stands, arms folded, at Hope’s side. 

“Hope,” Bane says tersely. 

Hope snorts and tilts his head.  _ “Teben,” _ he says with a lazy air about him. “You know I don’t go by that name anymore.” 

Bane bristles. “From what I understand,” he can’t help saying, “You never went by much of anything to begin with.” 

Hope just shrugs. He still has that stupid, smug grin on his face. 

Bane is terribly tempted to slap it off him. He reigns in his temper purely for the fact that if he can pull this off without involving Vale, it will mean less stress on the man, on the Shadows as a whole. If Hope can vouch for just the heads of the Shadows, if he might convince his allies that the five of them (may Cull rest in peace) intend not to leap into the abyss, but walk the edge and keep the masses at bay…

If he can do even one thing to keep Vale safe, that’s enough. 

“And who is this?” Bane asks, motioning to the Hunter. 

Hope glances over his shoulder at his companion as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Who, this?” he says, in a way that means he’s pulling a stunt. “Just a little insurance, don’t mind him.”

Bane’s jaw tightens. “The deal was that we’d meet alone,” he says. 

Hope smiles, all teeth. “You can bring your friends over too, if you want.”

Bane stiffens. Hope laughs, sharp and rude about it. After a moment, Bane waves his hand. A Warlock and a Titan peel themselves from different corners of the bar and join him. 

“Now that we’re all present,” Hope drawls, then motions for Bane to sit. “What can ol’ Drifter do for you, friend?” 

Bane counts to ten and exhales slowly before he takes a seat, his Shadows flanking him on either side. They are new, promising, and eager to impress Vale. Bane has plans to pay them handsomely if all goes well, and if their journey to understand the Darkness kept on as it was...well. They could end up proper Dredgens. 

Unlike this Hunter Hope had brought with him, undoubtedly one of his Gambit players with a phony title.

Bane glances around at the bar for anyone else suspicious — that is, anyone not nervously glancing at a table of five Lightbearers. He wonders if Hope has other allies hidden in the crowd. “I wanted to speak with you,” Bane says, gathering his patience enough to lower his voice, “about a potential allyship.” 

Hope raises an eyebrow, swirling his whiskey. “Oh?” he asks in clear amusement. 

Bane clears his throat. “Word has gotten around that you’ve made some...friends in high places. As you know, we’ve attempted similar measures so we might do our work in relative peace —”

Hope grins again, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I get it. You heard I got in good with the Vanguard, and you want a little piece of the action. Am I right?” 

Bane’s eye twitches. This bastard’s still as vulgar as ever. But Hope is a petty son of a bitch, so if Bane must suffer through his comments to get what he needs, then so be it. “More or less,” he says with some reluctance. “With Cull gone —”

“Serves him right.” 

Bane slams a fist on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hope’s bodyguard unfold his arms. “Cull was a better man than you’ve ever been,” he snaps. “You’d know that if you hadn’t jumped ship at the first sign of trouble —” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Hope says, leaning back in his chair and shaking a finger at him. “Careful now. Don’t want the Man With The Golden Gun sniffing around here, do ya?” 

Bane bites his tongue. It takes all his strength not to send a pulse of Arc into Hope’s face. He closes his eyes a moment, exhales, then laces his fingers across the table and says calmly, “You of all people could not possibly understand the gravity of Cull’s sacrifice. Even so, I ask that you take up your namesake just once. We do not want another...incident with Miss Aunor, nor do I wish to sacrifice another of us to satisfy Shin Malphur's bloodlust. If you can convince even one of them that a cooperative arrangement might benefit all involved, it would be greatly…appreciated.”

Hope tilts his head, purses his lips like he’s thinking, crosses one leg over his knee and bobs his foot under the table. “Mmm,” he says, setting his whiskey glass down. “So you want me...to risk the most delicate relationships I have in the game for...what, exactly?” 

This is where Bane’s argument is weakest. He tries not to swallow too noticeably. “I have little to offer besides Glimmer —” he starts. 

“A currency I don’t put much stock in, nowadays.”

“I am asking you a  _ favor,” _ Bane hisses through his teeth. 

“There we go!” Hope exclaims, clapping his hands together and leaning forward in interest. “Anybody ever tell you you beat around the bush too much? Shit.” 

Bane blinks, taken aback. He pauses. “You’ll do it then?”

“Oh, hell,” Hope says, running a finger around the edge of his glass. “Didn’t say that just yet. I still got questions for you.” 

“Such as?” 

“Such as,” Hope drones, dragging out the word, “What’s Vale think of all this, huh?”

Despite his efforts, Bane’s cheeks pinken. “Vale...doesn’t know,” he admits. 

Hope’s grin is a pearly, wicked thing, near snake-like. He looks like a man who’s been given ammunition. “No?” he asks, with no small amount of delight. 

Bane clears his throat, straightens his shoulders. “I don’t wish to trouble him about this matter until I can be sure of some degree of success,” he says. 

Hope’s brows go up. He flashes his teeth. He props his chin against his knuckles, then asks, “Still trying to get a ride on his dick, huh?” 

Bane only plants his hands on the table and stands up. It is a reasonable reaction to such an accusation. But he is suddenly face to face with the Hunter's gun barrel; Bane’s accompaniment draws their weapons out of surprise, but if the Hunter had decided to shoot — 

The bar has gone silent. Patrons are staring, hands hovering over their own weapons just in case. Bane isn’t sure if the Hunter is the fastest draw he’s ever seen or if he was just too busy glaring holes into Hope’s forehead that he never saw the man go for his gun. 

“Woah, woah!” Hope laughs. “Hey, take it easy, why don’t we? Nobody needs to get shot.” 

Bane grits his teeth. What Hope really means is obvious if you’d met him before:  _ anyone puts a bullet in me, deal’s off.  _ Bane bites out, “Stand down.”

“Bane —” the Titan objects. 

“Stand. Down,” Bane orders, staring Hope’s Hunter down. He has not moved, and the gun is still an inch from Bane’s forehead. His companions obey and reluctantly put away their weapons. The Hunter does not.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Hope croons, closing a hand around the Hunter’s arm and pushing his chair back before he pulls the man right into his lap. The Hunter lets out a little grunt of surprise — Bane recognizes the faint crackle of a voice modifier from his helm — but goes where pulled. He settles in Hope’s lap, his head resting against Hope’s temple and his arm around Hope’s shoulders. Bane tracks the Hunter’s gun hand as he drops it to his own lap, ready to spring up again at a moment’s notice. 

The gun is one of Hope’s popular cannons, a Trust, but the barrel is emblazoned with gold serpents. 

More than just a Gambit player, then. More than  _ insurance _ , certainly. Bane wrinkles his nose. 

“Tell you what, Teben,” Hope says, smoothing his thumb over the Hunter’s thigh, then waits. 

Bane swallows his pride and sits back down. The bar’s chatter slowly picks back up. 

“Tell you what,” Hope says again. “I’ll talk to the Man With The Golden Gun for you, see if I can’t get him to let the six — oh, my bad,  _ five  _ of you be.” He shrugs. “Now, Miss Aunor...that’s too new a bridge for me to risk settin’ fire to. Frankly, you’d need more than a good word from me to convince that one to let Shadows of Yor just slip on by, so I bid you luck there, brother. So,” he says, angling his face towards the Hunter’s cheek. “We got a deal?” 

Bane is only comforted by the fact that the most immediate danger may not pose a problem after this. The Warlock Aunor, at least, would attempt rehabilitation instead of just killing Vale outright. This, he will take. And, on top of that victory, Vale never had to be in Hope’s accursed presence, just as planned. 

“Deal,” he agrees. 

“Happy to do business with you,” Hope says cheerfully. He doesn’t offer to shake on it. 

Bane cannot honestly say the same, exactly, but he won’t complain further, lest Hope change his mind. “A pleasure,” he says curtly, then beckons to his Shadows and turns to leave the bar. 

He glances back once before they’re out the door, finds Hope looking directly at him while he slides a hand between the Hunter’s legs. The man shifts into Hope’s touch, apparently finished keeping vigil. 

Bane scowls in distaste and turns away. 


End file.
